Salvation
by hannah askance
Summary: He wanted to break the curse and set the bird free, but it seemed that she believed he wouldn't succeed. RR.
1. I: Request

A retelling of the Grimm Brothers' _The Raven_. Chapters will not be long, but I hope the update dates will make up for it. Hope everyone enjoys; reviews, critiques and such are greatly appreciated. :)

Neither Teen Titans nor _The Raven_ is mine, I disclaim.

* * *

_Scarcely had she spoken the words before the child was changed into a raven and flew from her arms out of the window. It flew into the dark forest, and stayed in it a long time, and the parents heard nothing of their child._ – **The Raven**, the Brothers Grimm

* * *

_The forest is quiet tonight_, he thought, and went on polishing his sword. _I might be able to rest here for the night. It seems safe enough._

He held the newly-polished sword up to the moonlight, and when its gleam satisfied him, he sheathed it again, and mounted his steed. "Let us find shelter for tonight, friend."

**Caw, caw. Croak, rustle.**

"Do you hear that, Mahogany?" The stallion just grunted in reply. Out of curiosity, Richard followed the sound, though Mahogany occasionally whinnied in protest and unconcealed fear – the forest only grew darker and more sinister towards its heart.

Stranger still was the source of the sound. A sleek black raven, perched on a particularly shadowed tree on its smallest branch, the bird made hitched sounds, its caw stopped before it was fully uttered. It would have been quite funny, as it almost sounded as if it were continually sneezing, but for the solemn air it carried about.

It was only then that Richard realized that the large black bird, larger than the norm (it could have been the size of a bald eagle), was actually _crying_.

Now more intrigued than ever – for who had ever heard of a crying crow, or raven, or whatever it was? – he spoke to the raven, not really expecting an answer, "Sorrows burden even the happiest of men, I gather."

And so he was very well beyond surprised when it answered, in its raspy, withered voice, "You do not have the slightest idea. I cry for others, and not for myself."

Thunderstruck, he looked at the fowl, expecting himself to wake up at any moment, but asked, "What _are_ you?" Suddenly he had a terrible idea, and withdrew his sword out at once. "A demon disguised, or are you not?"

**Caw.** "I am not a demon," the raven said, seeming greatly offended, but grave, and he could swear that there was a hidden meaning in the sentence. "Alas, Fate has not been on my side, but she never has been." It locked its shining, onyx eyes, with deep intelligence, onto his face. "Should it benefit you, a cursed priestess' daughter is what I am. I have been waiting for years for someone to help me break the curse, but never has anyone approached me – until now."

Richard perceived that to really be a question as to whether he'd help her or not, and he could feel that the raven was telling the truth. He answered, quite sincerely, "I would help if only you showed me how."

The raven stared hard at him for a few moments, and then realigned its head to watch the sky. "…No matter. I have foreseen that you would fail."

He was even more surprised, but did not let it show. There was also a new determination, and although he did not understand why it appeared nor cared how, it felt strange. "I will still help," he insisted. "Please let me. Now what am I to do?"

The bird, looking greatly surprised at his declaration, snapped its head back toward his direction. "If you insist, I do not have any other choice but tell you; but do be careful, because I certainly wouldn't like your life at stake." It cocked its head to the side, and straightened again. "There is a house, not far from here. An elderly lady lives there, who will almost certainly offer you food and drinks, but you shouldn't – you **shouldn't**, you hear me? – accept any of it from her, for even a drop of the drink or a taste of the food will lull you into sleep, and you won't be able to help me. Behind this house, there is a small hill, on which you must stand on and wait for me. I will come, every afternoon as the clock strikes two, for three days. You will know it is me from my horses; on the first day, they will be white, the second, chestnut brown, but the third time, they will be black steeds. However, if you fall asleep, I won't be able to be set free."

Again, the bird looked up, and, in a resigned tone, added, "But I know already that you will take something from the woman, and fall asleep."

Richard shook his head vigorously. "I won't," he promised. "If it means that your freedom is at stake, I won't touch a thing that lady will offer me."


	2. II: One, Two, Three Words, or Wake Up

I'm so glad you like it. At least, you who reviewed. You who did not, I certainly _hope_ you did. I might not update as soon next time - schooldays are harsh.  
Here it is.

Neither Teen Titans nor _The Raven_ is mine, I disclaim.

* * *

_As he was standing there, his weariness all at once became so great that he could not struggle against it, and lay down for a short time, but he was determined not to go to sleep. Hardly, however, had he lain down, than his eyes closed of their own accord, and he fell asleep… that nothing in the world could have aroused him._ – **The Raven**, the Brothers Grimm

* * *

The first impression he had was that it was warm, cozy, and everything else a home needed to be, to be a home. He had been galloping for a long time, and it crossed his mind that the raven had played some sort of trick at his expense, but hardly had he thought it than saw the silhouette of a settlement.

The house, made entirely of stone walls and wooden floor, looked quite merry. Several candle lights twinkled teasingly from the few windows he had been able to see from outside. He had seen a modest-sized plantation field, where one cow and two sheep lay down, blissfully sleeping.

Richard tied Mahogany to a post outside clearly meant for tethering and carefully removed the saddle and reins, of which he placed beside the post.

A stout little woman, with graying hair, was visibly boiling water on the fire. When she saw she had a guest, she immediately brightened, and said, "Come in, please, do come in. It's been a while since I've had guests as young as you!" She tittered and fluttered about the small house, opening a cupboard one time and checking the water the next, and before he knew it, Richard was being seated at the table, and many, many dishes of food were laid out, with wine and water.

"Please," the woman said, a little out of breath from the enthusiastic activity, "Eat some. I have many excesses here, living on my own, and the cheese is the absolute best in town on further, I tell you."

Richard smiled, but politely declined. "I'm not allowed to eat, but thank you so very much for all your hospitality." He got up – the sundial he'd seen earlier outside had showed it was half past one, and he did not want to miss the raven.

The old woman frowned. "But please, humor your host and drink at least one sip of water. You must be quite exhausted, coming this far into the forest. Please, drink." She pushed the tall glass of water towards him.

He let himself be persuaded. _After all_, he reasoned, _what could be so dangerous about being a little drowsy? I can fight it._ He nodded, and took one careful sip.

Shortly afterwards, he went to the hill, as it was very nearly two o'clock. He stood there waiting, when all of a sudden something washed over him, and he felt extremely exhausted and in want of a good sleep. He fought it as hard as he could, but steadily, the blankness began to win. As unconsciously he fell back and lay down on the soft grass, he closed his eyelids and before he knew what was happening, he drifted off.

The last thing he remembered was the sound of hooves, a defined '**caw**', a tiny rustle, and a feminine voice crying out, "No!"

* * *

The first thought that crossed his mind when he fought back the clouded masses in his head was, _Where am I?_

The second one was,_ I can't believe I fell asleep._

Not until the third one did the full impact of what had happened hit him. _I fell asleep! The __**raven**__!_

Briefly he looked around, as if searching for it; but then thought he was stupid to do so, because it was clearly sometime in the night, and he was lying on a straw bed. He tried to remember what had happened, but all he managed to grasp back in his memory was a maiden's voice, and he felt as if he'd known it all his life.

His door opened; the woman peeped in. When she saw he was awake, she grinned. "Hello," she greeted. "You fell asleep on the hill last night; you must have been quite weary. It is nearly dawn." At this she presented him with a tray full of small cakes and set it before him. "Do eat, so that you will regain your strength to travel again."

At the sight of the little colorful cakes, Richard immediately felt his temper rise. He had never been excellent at controlling his short fuse, but most of the time managed to keep it under close supervision. However, the sight of food by this witch – it simply angered him, since it was hindering him to his goal.

He opened his mouth to tell the old hag something, but she'd stuffed one of the cakes into his mouth when he'd opened it, and so he had no choice but to swallow it to prevent from suffocating himself. He could only hope, he thought as he swallowed, that he would be ready for it and be strong enough to fight it.

The woman smiled, and left the room.

* * *

The hour had scarcely struck, but already Richard was feeling the effects of the little cake he had been forced.

Blankness wiped out his consciousness little by little; he was fighting it to his absolute best, but still it was winning.

He tried to remember his parents – their memory went out like a sputtering candle. He struggled to keep in mind his teenage sweetheart, Star – but he could no longer hold to it as he did to his parents, but the sharp pain of heartache that he'd experienced since her family moved away no longer came. He was, needless to say, surprised. If Star's memory couldn't keep him conscious, nothing would.

And then, unbidden, another memory came – he barely remembered it this morning, but now it seemed clear and sharp. The girl's voice, whoever she was, etched itself in his mind, and although it was only one word that she spoke, he held on to it like a lifeline.

Tresses of darkness embraced him, but not before he felt a cool hand touch his face almost tenderly, and the same voice he'd been holding on to murmured, somewhat woodenly and sounding very close, "Don't leave."

* * *

This time, when he woke up, he knew exactly what condition he was in, and he was extremely furious with himself for many things.

The most important one was his lack of strength toward the sleeping draught or whatever the damned woman was putting in his mouth byway of his food. He had been sure, absolutely sure, the first time that he could fight it, but now, he felt helpless. The vulnerability of himself put him in great distress.

He refused to touch anything the lady had left for him, including the pastries, bread loaf, cheese and red wine. He was proud of the restrain he showed and exercised, and amazingly, still he did not feel in the least bit hungry. Richard strode onto the hill, keeping his chin up.

…Which was why he nearly fell over with the impact of the familiar flood of drowsiness. It took him completely by surprise, and it was as if a giant hand had appeared and made him to keel over. _Cunning fox_, he thought venomously, _she must have believed I wouldn't eat or drink when I woke up, so she slipped something down my throat_ – despite the overwhelming exhaustion, he felt a shudder of disgust – _while I was asleep._

However – maybe because he'd taken it three times? – he felt strong enough to fight it a little longer, much longer compared to the first time he'd tried to. He struggled harder than ever, fighting against it, and rubbed his eyes to open them forcefully, but it was extremely insistent.

Richard thought he'd seen an alabaster, womanly face, framed with hyacinthine locks, and piercing eyes – those eyes! He thought he could drown himself in them forever – hover above his face and a hand holding it, barely fluttering with consciousness. He smiled as he fell asleep with the memory of her smile, though bitter as it was, and three words, uttered in a tone not quite grim, not quite happy, not quite melodious, and barely almost hopeful:

"Come find me."


	3. III: Thy Name Is Raven

Here it is. Hope everyone enjoys. Reviews are a great encouragement to the author. : )

Neither Teen Titans nor _The Raven_ is mine, I disclaim.

* * *

_When the man awoke and saw that he had slept, he was sad at heart, and said, "She has certainly driven by, and I have not set her free."_ – **The Raven**, the Brothers Grimm

* * *

The first thing he noticed upon regaining consciousness was a dull, throbbing headache. Besides the distracting thudding against his head, mostly he felt a queer mixture of anger, disappointment, and something like sorrow creeping about the edges.

"I failed." _Ifailedifailedifailed. Where is she now?_ He buried his head in his hands and screamed in self-anger. He needed to calm down first, so that he could deal with the issue clearly. He inhaled deeply, and leaned back on his hand.

Something on his finger clinked.

For a second, he momentarily forgot his inner turmoil and stopped blaming himself inwardly. He raised his left hand and inspected it. It was there, on his little finger, just twinkling innocently in the sunlight.

_A ring?_ Curious, he took it off and examined it. _Gold, no doubt. It certainly feels heavy enough._ His finger brushed against something rough inside. _What's this? … A name! It's engraved inside._ He held it towards the sunlight. _R-A-V-E-N._

"Raven," he murmured, savouring the word on his lips. Richard didn't know whether to close his eyes because he _finally_ knew her name, or laugh at its pitiful irony. To be changed to one's namesake, physically. _But it suits her_, he thought, somewhat wistfully for some reason, _yes, it suits her._ He returned the ring to his finger.

All at once, suddenly all his negative thoughts returned to him, twice as hard, reminding him of his current predicament. Richard ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"What am I to do?" he muttered. "I'm such an idiot to lose all three chances." The only option he had was to return home, having no leads. _So be it_, he thought bitterly, ashamed and furious at himself. _I hope you will forgive me, Raven._ He turned around to the house, and saw a flask of wine, a loaf of bread and several small pies, all of which was on a silver tray. _What's this? The old woman wants me to eat?_ He snorted inwardly. _I'm never touching anything she cooks again!_

Then he saw the rolled-up piece of paper. _Not parchment?_ He thought absentmindedly, as he bent over to pick it up. _Wouldn't it be easier for her? She has her own animals, and surely she can skin._

"Where would she get paper?" Richard asked quietly to himself, feeling himself turn to stone as he read the first sentence, written in a childish scrawl. _**Stranger I am to you**_, he read, _**yet 't was my freedom you sought?**_

* * *

Stranger I am to you, yet t was my freedom you sought? Please don't get the wrong impression. I truly am grateful to you for your efforts, but one cannot help but wonder.

It is absurd, stranger. I have only known you for several days – as an acquaintance, no less – yet I feel as if I've known you throughout my life, and it is stronger as I look up from my writing and at you. Instead of giving up and simply walking away after your (quite pathetic, might I add) failures, you must be blaming yourself, are you not?

It is absurd, but I very much dislike seeing you so troubled. Should you be unsatisfied, there is something I should tell you. We have been granted second chances. Seek the golden castle of Stromberg. T is a very long journey, but I will be there.

I have supplied you with provisions. They will never run out. I entrust my ring to you. Please take care of it well.

* * *

The letter was crisp, short, and had a cutting edge to it. But he appreciated the fact that she acknowledged the awkward distance they had between them, did not care that it was short, and rather liked the sharp wit. It was decided the moment he had finished reading.

He was going to Stromberg, wherever that was.


	4. IV: Mine is Richard

I'm really very sorry... My family and I have been quite busy for the last few weeks. I'm sorry it took that long...  
Well, in this chapter, the first indication of the mind link between Robin and Raven appears. It's not much, but I hope it's all right... _(Thank you very much to **ravenslair** for the encouraging words.)_ I experimented a little with the writing style, so please tell me what you think.

Neither the Teen Titans nor _The Raven_ is mine, I disclaim.

* * *

_After he had walked about the world for a long time, he entered into a dark forest, and walked for fourteen days, and still could not find his way out. Then it was once more evening, and he was so tired that he lay down in a thicket and fell asleep._ – **The Raven**, the Brothers Grimm

* * *

_One year later_

If he was honest with himself, Richard did not know why, after all this time, still he continued to search for her.

Every now and then, in his travels (to which he had told Bruce was purely for interest of the world), he would find a hint; a soft-spoken word, a vague picture, a subtle _something_ he encountered, seemingly random. He would pursue it, and every time, it always led to a dead end, a stone wall barring his way. Each time, he would get frustrated, blame himself indefinitely, grit his teeth, and wonder why in the world he should continue looking for someone he did not even _know_.

Each time, the gold ring on his finger suddenly called for attention, weighing heavier on his hand somehow. He just needed to look at it, and suddenly all his doubts cleared.

More often than not, he wondered absently whether the ring contained any sort of magic, to affect him so, or it was just him. He found he cared little either way.

Richard fiddled with the piece of paper, now slightly yellowed and more worn at the edges and the creases where it folded into half, twice. Now and then, as he rested under a particularly large bough tinseled with leaves, he opened it, just to reread it repeatedly. It had become his habit to do so since a few months after he received it, and whenever he did it in front of others' presence, they would ask what bothered him, was it the letter, blah, blah, blah… When he replied it simply was his habit, they would send him odd looks and stop questioning the matter.

Therefore, it was no surprise to him when he discovered, one day, he had memorized everything that was written on the piece of paper.

_No_, he thought. _It is more than just a mere piece of paper… Did she cast any spells upon it?_ Then again, it might have only been him. Every time his eyes focused on the clumsily written letters, he felt as if he'd found some remnant of a long-lost friend, someone who had been very dear to him but lost contact with. A faint, warm feeling, almost shy, crept up and into his chest.

He shifted his position into a more comfortable one and laid back into the bark. The grass rustled as he moved his feet toward him, so that his knees were quite close to his chest. He folded his hands lightly on them, holding the letter, and turned his face sideways, feeling the light breeze. The wind was cool, and brushed at his skin like soft layers of feather downs. The sky's color had mellowed into a dustier greenish blue. It was so comfortable…

* * *

Richard blinked. Where was he?

All around him were walls built from great blocks of what looked like stone; there were maroon drapes, lined with gold, all over them. He felt that a tapestry would not have been out of place, but there were none to be seen. There was something strange about the walls, though. Instead of the dull grey, they were somewhat yellowish and… he thought he was hallucinating, but where the light caught it, it _gleamed_.

He looked to his left. There was a large window, though not fitted with glass. It resembled the long, pointed shapes a church was decorated with. There was someone leaning out the window, watching the moon wane. He could see that it was a woman.

She was not very tall. She was wearing a dress of midnight blue, a color contrast to the rest of what he could see in the room by weak moonlight. To his utter surprise, he recognized her hair.

It was the exact color of what he had seen of Raven (as he'd taken to calling her), the hue of her hair before he had passed out and fell asleep. Her voice rang incandescently in his mind.

'_Come find me.'_

Unconsciously, he walked so that she was within touching distance and reached out. However, before he could touch her shoulder with his hand, the woman straightened and turned around, her eyes growing wide for a split second.

The same feeling of finding-a-long-lost-friend seeped into the core of his very being. It was Raven. Her eyes, which could be called two irresistible maelstroms, betrayed her identity. Of course, he would know by her eyes – it had been the last thing he'd seen of her. Strange that he could remember them so vividly, after a year.

"You _are_ Raven, aren't you?" he asked, just to verify.

She seemed almost speechless. "Yes, but…" Her fingers fidgeted with themselves. "How come you to be here?"

He had not listened to a word she had said after _Yes_. He was marveling of how lush it sounded, despite the fact that it was very soft and low, so that it sounded somewhat hoarse and husky.

Raven's eyes – it felt strange to use her name and actually _connect_ it to a person now – looked bewildered, though her facial expression betrayed nothing. "Well? How come you can be here?" Irritation clouded her voice for a moment. "You, stranger… You're not a part of this."

Richard was confused. "Excuse me. A part of _what_, exactly?"

She sighed impatiently. "The dream," she answered, folding her arms in front of her. "_My_ dream. Do you happen to possess any magical skill?" In spite of sounding annoyed, a hint of curiosity also leaked out; not in her voice, Richard surmised, it was more as if he _felt_ it.

"No," he replied, looking curious, as well. "Should I be?"

She looked slightly alarmed now. "I… Perhaps…" She trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Her arms returned to her sides slowly, and she looked down slightly, murmuring incoherently to herself, though Richard caught words and phrases like 'mind shield', 'kept any presence out' and 'need to train more'.

_Interesting_, he thought. _She can shield her mind? I wonder what that means…_

Raven looked up sharply then. "Did you say anything?"

Richard blinked twice, already lost. "I didn't. Why?"

She looked even more confused then, and started fidgeting her fingers again. "I wonder…" She looked him in the eye. "You should probably go now. I don't know how safe it would be for you to remain in my consciousness for so long."

He hesitated. "How do I do that?"

"Do what?"

"Go."

"Azar help us." She sighed, but it was more of a resigned sound more than anything.

Something crossed his mind. "Don't you think it unfair?"

Raven looked at him, her head cocked slightly to one side. _Cute._ Richard shut off that trail of thought. "I'm sorry. I do not follow."

"I know your name, yet you remain ignorant of mine."

"And this is unfair because…?"

Richard laughed lightly. "Do you think that it doesn't take away introductions? You first." He gestured to her right hand.

"What? …Oh." She looked slightly hesitant, but not unwilling, and offered her right hand. "My name is Raven."

Richard smiled at her, and it dawned on him, as he took it with his, that he had only ever seen her smile once. "A pleasure. Mine is Richard."

Though her lips did not curve upwards, her eyes glittered in a friendly way, almost smilingly. "The pleasure is mine, Richard."

* * *

To his utter annoyance, his eyes opened and he awoke.


End file.
